


The Blade

by Kangarooney



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-07
Updated: 2013-02-07
Packaged: 2017-11-28 13:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/675101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangarooney/pseuds/Kangarooney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dark tale of a blade and how it has always haunted a certain bot. Can't tell you much else, or I'll give the story away. If you don't like violence, depression, or lots of spilled energon, I suggest you stay away.</p><p>Trigger Warning: Suicide and self-harm are mentioned in great detail in this fic. If you are easily triggered by such things, please keep scrolling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blade

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warning: Suicide and self-harm are mentioned in great detail in this fic. If you are easily triggered by such things, please hit the back arrow now.

He stared at The Cybertronian blade he had retrieved from his home. His Creators had killed each other with it, they had killed all their other sparklings with it, and they had told him, on the day of both their deaths and the day he fled his home, "One day youngling, one day you too will die by this blade.". He had gone back after their fight, he had taken The blade, some credits, and food. Then he had disappeared.

He had always been terrified of That blade. He had tried getting rid of it several times, yet it always made its way back to him. A mech or a femme, finding it and leaving it in his room, having remembered seeing him with it. Truly, it did terrify him. But since it always came back to him, he stopped trying to get rid of it. Instead he hid it away in his possessions, deep underneath things he never used.

And it waited, he could feel it waiting. Waiting for him to crack, for someone to find it. To use it for its purpose, to kill him. It helped with his depression. Every time he felt down, it would come into his thoughts, he would have nightmares of it, how he watched it kill all of his siblings, how easily it would slide into his psycho creators arms, leaving behind long cuts of energon. It haunted him.

Every time someone was mean, told him he was useless, laughed at him, was frustrated with him, anything, he would act normally, but then, later, when they were in deep recharge, he would cry, clicking and wailing. Of course his voice processor was muted, no point in letting the others have something else to use against him. And slowly, oh so slowly, The blade crept higher up the pile, closer to the surface.

Finally, he came into his room one night, earlier that day he had overheard bad things being said about him, he'd fought the enemy, and they had taunted him, saying he was worthless, saying how utterly useless he was. He had made a mistake during that fight, enraged at the enemy, he had attacked, not thinking straight. Of course, when they were finished the battle, he had been injured from his reckless behaviour; and his companions had yelled at him for being so foolish. To top it all off, they had stopped speaking to him for the rest of the day. And then, entering his room, he saw it. It was innocently sitting on top of his unused pile, gleaming in the light. The blade. It came, at the time he was feeling most miserable.

And seeing it there, he snapped. Something inside of him just broke, and so, he grabbed The blade. And now, here he was, sitting on his berth, staring at it.

Slowly, he brought it closer to him, maybe the pain of it slicing across his servos would ease the pain in his spark. The pain he always felt, the pain of a sparkling abused as a youngling. Maybe...

And so, he sliced. And was amazed at how sharp it was, fascinated, he watched as beads of energon appeared. Again he sliced, again, again, again, and again. He was awed by how the pain in his spark eased, yes, if he just kept injuring himself physically, the mental pain would leave.

And so, that night he spent with The blade. Letting it taste his energon again and again. He became more gleeful each time a new line of energon was made.

By the time of dawn, he had slashes on his limbs(ex. arms, legs), wrists, servos, chassis, pedes, back, neck, shoulders. He had scrawled words of self-hate all over himself. Words like 'useless', 'disgusting', 'scrap-metal', trash'; even some like 'street-bot', 'beggar', 'pleasure-bot', 'whore', and the such-like. He had carved the names of all those he believed hated him. entitled under 'Those Who Hate me'.

And now, the sun was rising. He sat on his berth, which was completely soaked in, and covered with, his energon. More had pooled on the floor.

He was utterly fascinated at how little pain he now felt in his spark. Actually, the loss of it was making him feel empty. He had never realized how much of him was filled by it. And now, now he wanted to feel whole again, he wanted that little something that had given him a feeling of being, even if it was just being a , opening his chassis, he gripped The blade, and stared at his spark.

So pale, beautiful, untouched, innocent. But worst of all, he felt, unmarked.

Unjust burst through him. How dare his spark look so normal. So unhurt. Especially after all the pain he had felt from it. How dare it?

So, bringing The blade closer to his spark, he pondered on what to do. After several moments of thought, an idea came to him.

His mouth-plates formed a grin as he brought The blade closer to his spark. No, he didn't even wince as he made the first mark, even thought he pain was absolute agony. This mark was soon to be followed by others.

A little while later, he was done. Now his pale spark had an eight letter long word written upon its surface. Each cut was dark and lifeless, they spelled 'worthless'.

Deciding that eight letters wasn't enough, the mech brought The blade closer, completely entranced, he gouged a deeper, darker, longer, and more painful cut. This time, the pain was so unbearable it overpowered his mute mode. And so, he screamed. His scream was so loud it would have woken everyone in the base, were it not for his room being sound-proofed. After the eternal agony, the bot fell to the ground in emergency stassis.

* * *

A mech got up at his usual time. Sure, the human clocks all said it was 6:00 AM, sunrise would be soon. But the main reason this bot got up early was because of the quiet. The peacefulness and utter stillness.

The bot walked down the hallways towards the energon room. After grabbing his energon, he headed down another hallway. A few moments passed, and he reached a door. Not his door, another bots.

Placing his audio receptor to a certain spot on the door, the mech listened. What is so special about that spot? You may ask. Simple, this bot had a code that permitted sound through that one spot when entered. He installed it so he could check on the bot inside. Yeah, he checked up on him, so what?

After several cycles of waiting and no sound, the mech began to draw away. But right when his CPU began to send the code to block sound again, a long, loud, anguish-filled scream, rent the air. Deafening the bots audio receptor for a moment.

The mech standing outside the door did not hesitate to break the door down. What he saw, absolutely terrified him.

The rooms occupant, was lying on the ground, surrounded in energon with a knife embedded in their chassis, having grazed their spark.

He stumbled over to the figure on the ground, and fell to his knees,and then sat down and pulled the mech into his lap. Brokenly, he muttered one name, horror and fear laced through his voice, "Bumblebee..."

**Author's Note:**

> Any helpful tidbits, thoughts, concerns, questions... Please comment.
> 
> By the way, I'm just wondering which bot you thought this was? (I did this on my other account and got lots of interesting answers)


End file.
